


Call Me Home

by Melusine6619



Category: Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Fluff and Angst, M/M, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-02
Updated: 2012-02-02
Packaged: 2017-10-30 12:35:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/331798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Melusine6619/pseuds/Melusine6619
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Aragorn and Legolas have one last night together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Call Me Home

**Author's Note:**

> Character death, as per canon.

Year 120, Fourth Age

Legolas knelt on the floor and ran his hands over the chest that bore Aragorn’s possessions. Opening it before he could change his mind, Legolas pulled a set of garments from beneath the royal garb and cradled the worn material to his chest. The clothes smelled of pipe weed, the outdoors, and Aragorn himself, and Legolas inhaled deeply as memories of their time together flitted through his mind. 

After a few moments in which he tried to control the hollow ache that was already building inside him, Legolas placed the bundle with his own things, and then he slowly stood and wandered about their bedchamber. He held Aragorn’s pipe, remembering the many times he had sat nearby as his friend, then lover, smoked. Legolas’ fingertips ran over the bed frame, lingered on the pillow that bore Aragorn’s scent. 

He could not face tomorrow. Yet he must.

So many years. So little time. And tomorrow was the end. 

“You regret now, loving a mortal.”

Legolas shook his head and drew a deep breath before he turned to face the man who had held his heart for so many years. He could not seem to control the moisture that threatened to spill from his eyes. 

“Nay, I will never regret loving you. 

“Yet you have tears in your eyes.” Aragorn walked slowly into the room. “You knew this day would come.”

Legolas moved close. His beloved was fully gray now, his face lined. “Knowledge that a fruit is bitter does not make it any less so when it comes time to taste of it.”

Aragorn sighed in agreement. “No, it does not.”

“Then why . . .?” Legolas could not complete the question.

“I am old. My strength wanes every day. I would have you remember me as I am now, not as I would be if I tarried longer.”

Legolas drew Aragorn’s body close to his. “You will never be old to me, Aragorn.”

“Liar,” Aragorn whispered, burying his face in the Elf’s soft hair. “Every day I see you watching me. I see the fear in your eyes as I age.”

Legolas moved his head, pressed a long, sweet kiss to his lover’s mouth. “If I study you so intently ‘tis only because I wish to memorize every detail of you.”

“Have you not already committed me to memory these many years?” Aragorn teased.

Legolas shook his head. “Every day with you is new. Were we to have an eternity together . . .” His throat tightened around the words, and he closed his eyes to stave off the impending tears. 

He had promised to be strong. Just as he had promised to sail as soon as Aragorn had passed.

“Your ship is ready?” Aragorn asked softly.

“Yes.” Legolas’ voice shook.

“And you will not linger? You will leave as soon as I am gone?”

“Yes—please, speak no more of it. I cannot bear it.” Legolas closed his eyes and drew a deep breath before opening them and forcing a smile. “Come, I have warmed some wine. The night is cold.”

Aragorn pulled Legolas into another kiss. “I do not fear the cold night when you are with me.” 

Legolas tilted his head, sighing with pleasure as Aragorn nipped the tip of his ear. “How would I comfort you, then?”

“As you always have.” Aragorn drew Legolas with him to the bed. “We have had a good life together, have we not?”

“A very good life,” Legolas agreed. 

“Then let us remember that,” Aragorn went on. “Let us give each other joy and think not on tomorrow for a little while. One last night together to give light to our passage home.”

Legolas tried not to think on it as he moved with his lover, but the knowledge that this was the last was ever present in his mind, and the once playful-passion they had shared through the years now became both desperate and sorrowful. As he had their first time together, the Elf slowly undressed Aragorn, his mind cataloguing every muscle, every scar. But where once before his hands had trembled at the newness of his lover’s body, this time Legolas’ whole being shook as he caressed long familiar territory. His face was wet as his lips suckled and teased their way down the King’s body, and he did not care that Aragorn would feel his tears. How could he be strong now?

When he had touched and kissed every inch of Aragorn’s body, Legolas finally rose up and impaled himself on Aragorn’s member. He held still for several moments before moving. How long had it been since they had coupled? Weeks? It seemed like years to the Elf, and he savored every precious second, every sensation, as he began to slowly move: Aragorn’s length filling him, the King’s hands gripping his buttocks, the soft rhythmic slap of flesh against flesh. But above all of that, Legolas savored the light shining in Aragorn’s eyes, the soft groans falling from his lips, the tear streaking down his cheek.

Legolas fought to hold his eyes open as ecstasy rippled through his body, letting Aragorn see everything that he felt.

“I will think of you like this when I close my eyes,” Aragorn grunted, “my beloved."

Legolas cried out as Aragorn’s seed bathed his passage, and he came undone himself, gasping his lover’s name.

“And I will never forget this moment. Nor all the others,” the Elf breathed. “And I will love you until time fades.” 

A long while later, when Aragorn slept, Legolas rose from the bed. He unsheathed one of his knives and moved back, his eyes caressing Aragorn’s face before he bent to his task. Carefully he cut a lock of Aragorn’s hair, bound it, and moved to place it with his own belongings. Slowly he walked back to bed and sat so that he could watch Aragorn in his sleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Legolas made his way from the Silent Street, his head bent. Grief was a heavy cloak that weighed him down, and each step was an effort. Aragorn was gone. The Elf had stayed with him until the last breath had left Aragorn’s body. And then he had turned away, unable to bear it a second longer. 

Gimli fell into step beside him, but Legolas did not notice. He did not notice anything. 

Together they made their way to the pier, where the ship stood ready. A strong wind blew, and the sky was fair as Legolas finally yielded to the call of the sea. He was going home. But as the ship came to the bend he looked back and a great sob tore from his chest as he clung to the rail, and he knew, as he had always known . . . 

He had been home all along.


End file.
